


Like for Like, Echo for Echo

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Humor, Lame Adults In Love, Romance, Smutty Shenanigans, Stricklake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 19:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10497750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: After the silence of loneliness, Barbara Lake is all too ready to chase after an echo only he can give her…A prequel of sorts to "An Amorous Attack."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ler/gifts).



> Dedicated to Humanityinahandbag & Bifacialler, my fellow shipmates in Stricklake Hell and who deserve all the love and encouragement in the world! Ler my love, please feel free to think of this as an early birthday present =) 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

“You know…you didn’t have to  _walk_ me home.” 

He arched a brow at her as they made their way up to her porch, the gesture making those ( _so_  unfairly gorgeous) green eyes of his glint as his mouth curled into a half smile, the same one that had made Barbara’s heart do such a strange little spasm when first seeing it that she had been worried until she realized that  _oh, that’s fluttering_. 

That had been followed by  _Oh God, what the **hell**  are you thinking, getting a crush on your son’s teacher? _

Barbara gave the same blush as she had then and tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear just like before, praying that the early evening light made it too dim to see.  _No need to make more of a mess in front of him, it’s not like he doesn’t already know how you’re struggling—_

“You’re absolutely right,” Walter confirmed, brow still arched but an undoubtedly fond look in his eyes as he watched her. “I did not. Just as  _you_ did not need to extend another invitation to have lunch with me, what with how the hospital needs you so.” 

“Even doctors get to eat,” Barbara laughed, nudging at his shoulder with hers. Some part of her remained aware that many would consider such a gesture far too… _casual_  to use with the principal of the local high school. Strangely enough, it was easy for her to dismiss that part when everything else in her was marveling over just how  _comfortable_  she felt with this man. 

This man of obvious culture and intelligence and wit that she was so  _sure_ was out of her league but who seemed to find her company not only tolerable but as fascinating as she found his. 

This man with his warm hands that held hers, long fingers twining in a comforting clasp, his lips brushing over her knuckles in a gentlemanly manner that had sent a blush pleasantly prickling up her back that first meeting…

This man with his thick salt and pepper hair that she wanted to drag her fingers through, his subtly rich cologne that made her want to push her nose into the crook of his neck and  _inhale_ till the scent sent her senses swimming, his voice –  _God, that **voice**_  – that she could so  _easily_  imagine rough and ragged with passion—

Barbara hastily continued speaking, the cool softness of the evening air feeling wonderful against cheeks that traitorously burned with a deepening blush. “Besides, you  _know_  I wanted to see you again.” 

And wonders of wonders, now it was  _his_  face that flushed, though only a slight amount, and Barbara envied at his eternal composure and control.  But he still smiled as they climbed the steps, his voice deceptively light. “Then reason follows that such a motive applies to my own actions.” 

He turned to face her in front of the door, and though his words were gently sly, his eyes were only soft as they met hers. “It is not a matter of  _need,_  but  _want.”_

He stepped closer to her, gaze steady and green and not leaving hers. “And I find myself compelled to obey. You are a woman who makes desire very easy, Dr. Lake.” 

It was impossible to blush more than she already had this evening. At least, she  _hoped_  it was. Nothing was as unappealing as a pink-faced redhead. But  _God_ , to hear him say  _those_  words in  _that_  low, rich murmur—

Barbara ducked her head as she gave a breathless laugh, smoothing a hand at the back of her neck, registering how her pulse raced as it pressed into her palm. “You – that’s – you’re so incredibly  _unfair_ , you know that? Just,  _absolutely_  criminal.” 

Walter laughed, far too delighted at such an accusation. “Oh,  _am_  I? Just how did you come to  _that_ diagnoses, Doctor?”

Barbara couldn’t help laughing along – he wore amusement too well for her not to find it infectious. She arched her brow in in what she hoped was a suitably flirty way.  “I think you  _know_  how I did, Mr. Strickler.”  

He came closer still, raising his own brow in a challenge she readily met, taking a few steps herself. The fading light of the sky framed him as green glowed under the light of the porch, the glint in his eyes playful. “ _Do_ enlighten me. You’ll find that in academia it doesn’t do to make assumptions.” 

 _So close_ , he was  _so_  close, and it was  _so_  very easy for Barbara to bump her nose at his just  _so_ , her glasses slightly nudged up as she gave herself to his gaze, let herself lean into him, her body so willingly curving to fit his.  _God, he feels **so**  good._

Now her voice was low, and she would have blushed at how close it was to a purr had she been able to give a damn about anything else just now. “No one says something like  _that_ and thinks it won’t have an effect. And that’s not even considering what you already—”

She stopped, and  _God,_  yup, she _could_  absolutely blush some more, the heat of humiliation crackling up her spine as she realized what she had been about to say.  _What you already do to me._

_God, Barbara, just amputate your foot so you can just keep it in your mouth, why don’t you?_

“I already  _what,_  Dr. Lake?” Walter’s voice was soft, the teasing in it gentle, and the slide of his hand into her hair was so wonderful she could almost forget her near miss. 

_Or maybe…_

Maybe it was too much to say so. Maybe  _she_ was being too much in general. But if Walter was so willing to share that she was a woman that inspired desire, then she could run that risk.  

Walter blinked at the brave vulnerability in her eyes as Barbara looked up at him, emotion making vivid blue even more beguiling. When she spoke, her voice was soft, her tone almost a confession. “You  _have_  to know what you do to me, don’t you?” 

Walter froze. 

Barbara felt her whole soul sicken.  _Oh God oh God oh God, too much, **too much** , I messed up **everything** —_

And then his palm pressed along her cheek, strong features softening and green eyes tender as his fingers touched the high arch of her cheekbone. When he spoke, Walter’s voice seemed to be an admission in and of itself. “I wonder if you know what  _you_  do to  _me_ , Barbara.” A finger slipped that one way-ward curl free, idly toying with it. “What you’re so very capable of…”

If her soul had sickened before, now it soared. Barbara tried to keep her voice light and fun. “Don’t worry, I won’t exploit it.” 

He smiled at that, though a strange sort of sadness came into his eyes. “Would that I could make the same promise…” 

Barbara gave a soft snort. “Like you aren’t  _already_  exploiting.”  

His whole demeanor changing in an instant. Soft and tender became sharp and tense, his eyes wide and wary as his gaze snapped up to hers.  _“What?”_

Barbara smiled, bemused. “Well - your  _voice_. Saying those things, making your voice all—” She shrugged a shoulder, bashful. “ _You know._  You have to know what it does to me, right?” 

Walter immediately relaxed, sliding back into that soft half-smile, a smolder once more stealing over his features. “Ah, yes.  _Right._  Never fear, I…I shall exercise caution in that regard, Dr. Lake.” 

Barbara cocked her head, curious. “Wait, what did you  _think_  I was talking about—?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Walter said quickly, before giving a cough and rolling his shoulders back. “That is, I…” 

He paused, looking off to the side, his shoulders slackening into a soft slump. When he finally brought his gaze back up to hers, Barbara blinked at the feeling that flickered in his eyes under the light, something both beautiful and bittersweet.  _Want. Wariness. Both conflicted,_   _but why…?_

When he spoke, she could feel him weighing his words, his speech slowed with sincerity. “I… _exploiting_  is one thing, Barbara.  _Harm_  is another. I…I would not want  _that.”_

His eyes went back to his hand, which still had her hair coiled around it. His voice was low once more, but now there was a roughness to it, not harsh but heartfelt.  _“I don’t want to hurt you, Barbara._ Please believethat.”

In that moment, Barbara could do nothing but melt. That he was  _so_ concerned for her, given what he knew of her past, her scars, how she had been hurt before…

_How are you even real? How did I get so lucky?_

She pushed her fingers along the nape of his neck, petting the hair there as she leaned in, resting her brow against his. “I believe  _you,”_  she whispered. 

He closed his eyes at that, an inexplicable look of pain crossing his features so quickly Barbara wondered if it was a trick of the light, and when he pulled back she couldn’t help her soft noise of dismay. 

But then his hand was sliding further into her hair, cradling the curve of her skull so that her face tilted up to him, and then he was bending his head to hers, his mouth—

Another soft noise escaped Barbara as Walter Strickler kissed her, this time most empathetically  _not_ one bornof dismay as he held her close, carding his hand in her hair, his mouth taking hers and  _oh,_  it felt  _so_ —

When they had first kissed–well, when _she_  had kissed  _him_ , it had been simple and sweet, the softest, gentlest offering she could manage.  _Please?_ _Please, can we try this?_

But  _this_  kiss,  _this_  was—

Barbara pulled back to take the quickest of breaths she could manage, her lips already burning, stung by sheer sweetness, before pushing her fingers through that salt and pepper hair and pulling him back to her. Walter gave a soft noise of his own as the kiss deepened, and Barbara knew that this kiss was no plea, but a demand.  ** _Please._**

_Please believe me, please kiss me, please want me, please give me everything you can give, it’s been so long, so long so long so long, please please please—_

Without even thinking about the risk of being too much, without even contemplating her daring, Barbara palmed the edge of his cheek, touching her fingers along his jaw to open his mouth further to her. The noise Walter made as she brushed her tongue at his almost had her laughing, which instead came out as a muffled moan as she  _drowned_  in wet heat and velvety roughness and  _oh God_ , it was—

**_Oh—!_ **

_“Oh!”_  Barbara fell back from the embrace, her hand going to her mouth, her eyes wide and her heart racing. How–it had–it had felt like– _how_  had it—?

Like a tongue had been brushing at hers—

And  _yeah_ , okay, his  _had_ , yes, but this was something  _else_ , something like—

Like an echo…? 

An echo of  _her_  own actions, how  _her_  tongue had…?

But—

_How is that even possible…?_

Barbara licked her lips, hyperaware of the pass of her tongue, the smoothly rough texture slick over stung lips. She pressed her fingers to them, wondering at their tenderness, at  _all_ of it. She could  _taste_  him, and she had damn well  _felt_  him, but then what had been that other…?

Just the memory of it sent a pulse of heat through her, delicious as it was inexplicable, and Barbara tried very hard to keep back her shiver. Whatever it had been, it was—

“Barbara?”

Walter’s voice was rough, exactly like she had always imagined it to be in those late-night moments of fervid frustration she always ended up flushing over the next day, and another shiver broke over her skin. 

When she looked up at him, she had to bite her lip. Just the sight of him alone sent such a swirl of hot  _something_ through her she almost swayed, the pulse of it primal and utterly unlike  _anything_  she had ever felt before. 

His hair and clothing remained relatively unmussed, but his chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath just shy of panting as he watched her with wide, wary eyes. The green of them was darker, his pupils dilated, and Barbara absently wondered how blown hers were. 

He gave a swallow she stared at him silently, fingers still at her lips, the bob of his adam’s apple –  _laryngeal prominence,_  sheer habit made her think – notable even under the collar of his sweater, before visibly composing himself. When he spoke, his voice was still somewhat rough, concern creasing his brow and making the green of his gaze sharpen. “What is it, darling?” 

It was the  _darling_  that did it, honestly.  

Barbara was on him before she even realized she had moved, her fingers raking through his hair with a desperation that was just shy of rough and her mouth on his in a kiss so fervent it might as well have been called  _filthy_. Somehow – even as Walter made a noise between a shocked gasp and a groan which her mouth caught regardless – Barbara found she couldn’t care less. 

Not when she was  _feeling_  so—

When he _tasted_  so—

And it had been so  _long_ ,  _so damn long—_

All throughout her body wave upon wave of sweet, simmering sensation crashed about in a wake of want, passion pushing up under her skin, making her positively  _ache_ as desire rippled through her, her very blood thrumming in echoes of arousal. Because there _was_  an echo, she was  _sure_ of it, and she was going to chase after it until she caught it and if that meant making out with her son’s principal on her porch for the world to see and gossip about, well then, Barbara never had been one to shirk responsibilities. 

She mouthed at his lower lip, tugging him deeper so that her tongue could twine with his, already addicted to his taste, to the sounds he was making. She could feel his surprise swirling away like smoke as he groaned, low and rich and full of want. The sound rumbled through his frame and into hers as he pulled her tight to him, arms wrapping around her, hands hard with hunger. For man of such class and composure, it was incredibly close to a growl, and  _wow_ , okay, she was  _super_  into that. 

Barbara moaned into his mouth as she sank against him, some far off part of her thankful that he was holding her up, what with how weak her knees were getting. There was that…that _doubled_  sensation again – it was the wonderful leanness of his body, hard against hers, but also  _something else_ , another pressure pressing close, something soft and firm and—

_Curvy—?_

Whatever it was, it made her absolutely  _shameless,_ pressed as she was against him, and  _oh God_ , yeah, okay, she  _was_  hooking her leg up around his hip, her pelvis pressing right against—

Walter’s eyes flew open as he gave a choked noise, and Barbara’s moan of victory was almost a mewl as she quaked in his arms, wracked with wonder and want. God, she knew she had gone through a dry spell, but she would’ve remembered something like  _this,_  right? 

_Then again, back then you hadn’t known **him** …_

As if to punctuate that thought, her hips rocked, the soft roll of them a question, considering how, well, _bold_  she was being otherwise. 

Walt’s inhale was a deep rasp, shock more prominent than pleasure, but one hand dragged down her spine to palm and press the small of her back, urging her closer. 

Answer thus received, Barbara hummed with pleasure, the sound near a purr. Still…

_Not going for the ass, huh?_

On one hand, what a gentleman. On the other hand…

Still kissing him, Barbara made sure the next roll of her hips was slower, deeper, a studious sort of grinding that she would have blushed if she had been the one to witness such a PDA. But as the instigator—

Walter shuddered, his hands hooking into her hair and cupping the curve of her rear respectively as he held onto her like a lifeline, and  _oh_ , there it was again, that intoxicatingly inexplicable echo of pleasure, the daze of it drowning everything else out—

Apparently that included a sense of balance. 

Barbara, preoccupied with kissing her son’s principal senseless, forgot that she only had one leg on the ground as she sank into the embrace even more, and—

Suddenly they were moving—? 

Walter’s low groan became a noise of alarm, and when Barbara opened her eyes she had the merest moment to puzzle over  _why_  the world was a blur—

They slammed against the side of the house right by the front door, Barbara bouncing slightly as she hit Walter’s chest.  He grunted at the impact, and Barbara quickly steadied herself, placing her hands on the wall, pleasure and mortification making her cheeks hot as she stumbled over her words.  _“Oh God–!_  Walt, I’m–I’m _so_  sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

Her voice trailed away when she saw that Walter was blatantly not paying attention to her. 

Instead, he was looking at how her arms were pretty much caging him. And if the gleam in those gorgeous eyes was anything to go by, he  _definitely_  did not mind being trapped. 

**_Well._ **

Barbara moved quick, barely giving Walter time to register her hands landing on his shoulders, pinning him there. Barbara found his double-take equal parts adorable and further fuel for the arousal burning through her like kindling, and was torn between giving an  _awww_  or feeling like a cat about to get some  _seriously_  sweet cream. 

The latter won out, and Barbara felt a sweet satisfaction as she favored him with a smirk, a feeling that only deepened into an ache of anticipation when Walter gave what was undoubtedly his best attempt at a discreet gulp.  _Let’s see what I’m “so very capable of”, shall we?_

The kiss she gave him was comparatively chaste to what had happened earlier, something to ease him in, a lovely lull into a sense of security before the gut-punch of seduction.  _So to speak._

It was tender and teasing, a soft toying of lips and teeth and tongue, and Barbara let herself  _thoroughly_ enjoy both it  _and_  how it dragged several shudders from Walter, his brow furrowed as he kissed her back. So eager to let her control, call the shots – no man had  _ever_  let her—

_“This isn’t the ER, honey. How about we cool it with the control issues, okay?”_

Barbara banished the sting of that memory by turning her attentions to his neck, the crook of it calling to her with that  _gorgeously_ masculine scent that she honest-to-God wanted to roll around in like a kitten with catnip. She dropped her head to his shoulder, and Walter kissed the crown of it, his nose nuzzling scarlet strands as he inhaled deep, his murmur muffled.  _“Barbara…”_

She nuzzled back before breathing in, and was nearly knocked out by her swoon.  _Sweet Jesus—_

It was expensive, undoubtedly, but also  _wild_  – rich yet subtle, something that reminded her of deep forests and ancient archives, expensive papers and cold stone—

Not wanting to move her hands, she managed to nudge the collar of his sweater away enough to bare a satisfactory amount of skin. With the methodical intent of a doctor and the torturous teasing of an incredibly sex-starved woman, Barbara Lake M.D. licked up the long line of Walter Strickler’s neck to find if he tasted as  _decadent_  as he smelled and  _oh holy hell, **yes he**   **did** —_

She would have laughed at the whine Walter gave, but her mouth was too preoccupied with sucking on his pulse-point. He  _shook_ beneath her, yet what was far more intriguing was how a rasping, wet heat now passed over the sensitive skin of  _her_ neck.

Barbara moaned as she closed her eyes, her skin breaking out into delicious goosebumps under such phantom caresses. God,  _what_  was going on? 

And honestly, did she  _want_  to question it?

_No._

No, what she  _really_  wanted to do was to see what sound Walter would make if she—

There was a noise like a curse catching between gritted teeth as Barbara bit into the soft shell of Walter’s ear, dragging it free and giving it a pass of her tongue to soothe the bite. Her own ear now throbbed, but she was  _done_ pondering,  _done_  patiently waiting,  _done_  worrying about making a mess of things because right now she was making out with a man who said her name like a prayer and kissed her like she was—

Walter’s hands were hovering over her, obviously unsure whether to hold her or not. Barbara was puzzled–she made it pretty clear she  _liked_  his hands on her – before remembering how her own still held his shoulders firmly against the wall. 

Tempted to laugh, she settled for smiling against his mouth.  _Worried you might get marked down for moving, Mr. Strickler?_

Well, she could take care of that. Nothing wrong with teaching hands-on, after all.  _So to speak._

One hand left his shoulder, passing over well-twilled tweed and soft wool in a slow, sensual stroke, her thumb brushing lightly over the skin of his neck, still moist from her attentions there. Walter’s murmur of pleasure caught in her mouth and made the sudden shift into a breathless moan even more dramatic when such innocent petting became a hard and hungry dragging of fingers down his chest, the dig of them deep with a desire that would not be denied. 

Barbara’s hum of pleasure was almost a purr what with how utterly  _delicious_ it was, the sound and sensation of her nails scratching – _clawing_  – the cloth of his jacket, the skin beneath it warm and so _firm_. God, she could just  _imagine_  what he would feel like without clothing in the way – thin but solid, lean muscle compact against her own curves, hard heat pressing her into the softness of her mattress, her pillow—

Walter moved his head, catching her by surprise as well as her mouth, the new angle allowing deeper access and  _oh God_ ,  _oh holy God,_  talk about  _exploiting_ —

Barbara couldn’t keep back her heady moan but knew retaliation was due.  _And that means concentrating, Dr. Lake._

Moving away from his shoulder to curl her fingers around the nape of his neck, Barbara let her hand continue its journey down, down down down…

She peeked just in time to see Walter’s eyes pop to an almost comical degree as her fingers, now light and teasing, brushed over the edge of his belt buckle, nails scratching soft. His hips jolted seemingly of their own accord, and the noise he made was a messy muddle between arousal, embarrassment, and pure panic. 

Her giggle was a bit impish, but Barbara found the mercy to move her hand away to twine it into his, fingers lacing sure and strong. Without breaking their kiss, she guided it to her back, smoothed clasped hands down in a stroke until they reached her desired destination. When his knuckles brushed over the soft swell of her rear, Walter’s inhale was sudden and strong, and Barbara could only let her own hand drop away even as her heart started hammering.  _Don’t force it don’t force it don’t force—_

But then she felt his fingers flex over her, curling over curves, and he was pulling her against him, and this time his hips did not jolt but  _rocked_ , sure and steady and oh God,  _so_ achingly sensual—

Barbara could have swooned but focused on sliding her free hand up and under his jacket, fingers sneaking up between the silky inner lining and his sweater to scratch at the line of his spine, claw him closer. God, but here they were, a thirty something doctor and a forty something principal, kissing–no,  _making out_  like a pair of randy teenagers, her tongue in his mouth and him squeezing her ass. She should have been embarrassed over the highly likely fact that he had probably lectured more than his fair share of couples for fooling around in hallways in ways that were positively  _tame_  to what  _they_ were doing—

And  _still_  there was that  _feeling,_  that  _echo_ , want and touch and taste multiplied to a magnitude where Barbara could do nothing but obey, her hands hungry, her heart aching with something she hadn’t thought she would  _ever_  feel again. God, to want someone so, to  _be_  so wanted—

As if in encouragement to her thoughts, Walter gave another of those so unfairly gorgeous growls, his hands sliding away from her rear to slip up under the top of her scrubs, those beautiful hands spanning her spine, skin on skin and _oh—!_

Barbara’s sigh was a shuddering, shallow thing, and she slumped against him, the slide of her body against his making her corepositively  _throb_  with thwarted pleasure, and—

She glanced down, lashes fluttering low upon flushed cheeks, and felt her heart stutter.  ** _OH._**

His hands flew away from her like she had suddenly morphed into a hot coal, and Walter plastered himself back from her, his expression one of desperate desire and wretched guilt, his voice ragged with both. “ _Darling, I’m so_ —” 

His chest heaved as he took a steadying breath, one hand dropping to smooth his jacket, discretely tugging it down. His throat worked with his swallow, and when he spoke, his voice was still thick with both desire and desperate fear. “I’m…  _so_  terribly sorry, love,  _please_  take no notice of it—”

Barbara crushed her mouth to his, tongue delving in once more as she let her hand go  _far_ beyond the belt buckle, thankful for all those hours in surgery that had installed an endless trust in her own touch.  _Like **this** —_

Any words Walter had been about to say was replaced by a dazed groan, and then  _he_ was slumping forward, and  _she_  was falling backward—

They amazingly didn’t come apart when they fell against the pillar, nor did she experience any kind of jolt, which she put down to how his hands cradled her skull like she was something  _precious_ , something to be  _protected_. Only her glasses had come loose, and Barbara spared just enough attention to shove them up upon her head before getting back to the truly important task of sucking on Walter Strickler’s tongue. 

Walter’s moan at that was almost guttural, and  _God_ , did that make her even more hot, sweet spiraling heat striking right to the searing sensitivity between her legs. It was a fact that wasn’t helped at all by how she could feel him as he pressed her up against the pillar. He didn’t have  _too_  much on her in regards to height, but he was  _strong_ , lean muscles almost like rock as he held her tight, one long leg coming between hers so that she rode up  _just_  so—

Barbara almost mewled at the maddeningly magnificent friction, one hand scrabbling at his back while the other ran roughly through his hair.  _God,_ that _hair_ , it was just like raw silk and she probably was a pervert for picturing how he would look with bedhead, especially bedhead courtesy of  _her_ —

_You **could**  find out, he’s right here and he wants you and then you wouldn’t  **have**  to imagine, you could  **know**  what it’s like, what  **he’s**  like, just ask and you could touch him taste him take him, have him touch you taste you take you too, like for like, echo for echo—_

Oh God, the sheer eroticism of _that_ echo would kill her.  _La petite mort._

Barbara broke the kiss, her breath coming in pants as she opened her eyes to look at him, opened her mouth to ask him, her words barely formed from her moan. “ _Please,_  Walt—” 

Red and yellow  _flashed_  up at her, like lamplight and smoldering coals, and she _gasped_ , jerking back—

And promptly hit her head on the pillar, pain splintering into sparks across her skull at the impact.  _“Ouch! Dammit!”_

Her glasses fell from her head with a clatter as she clutched the back of her skull, squinting in pain. Walter was rendered a fuzzy blur as he leaned to her, but his concern was still clear, even if it was only through his voice _. “Barbara, are you—?”_

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” Barbara assured him, kneeling for her glasses, spreading her fingers wide in her search. God, of  _course_  it would be nighttime too, everything shadowy and hard to see—

His hand as suddenly there, warm and strong and taking hers, unfurling her fingers so that her glasses could be placed into her palm, and even with the throbbing ache in the back of her head, Barbara could have melted at the thoughtful gesture. 

Walter helped her rise, the green of his gaze a fuzzy glow to her bare eyes, his voice still concerned. “Are you sure? What startled you?” 

“Positive,” Barbara assured, settling her glasses back on her face. The evening was thrown into sharp relief, as was Walter’s grimace of worry, his eyes searching her as if to check her status. She touched a hand to his elbow reassuringly. “I’ve gotten a lot worse at the hospital, believe me. I just–like you said, I was startled—”

 _“What_ startled you?” Walter repeated, his brow furrowing as his tone and gaze sharpened. 

Barbara sighed, running a hand over her head, annoyed at herself. “It – it must have been a trick of the light, but I could have sworn your eyes – they… _changed_.”

For some odd reason, Walter seemed to pale, though that was probably just the evening light. “…Changed?” 

“Yeah, changed. Their color–” Barbara stopped herself and sighed, shaking her head. “It’s was probably just a reflection from some car lights.” 

 _Had_ there been a car, though? Surely she would have heard it…

_Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t distracted with grinding up against your son’s stupidly sexy principal—_

Barbara sighed, dropping her head into her hand. Oh God, she  _had,_  and for all the world to see. 

Meanwhile, Walter had looked away, smoothing down his now considerably rumpled jacket and sweater, his voice strange. “Undoubtedly.” 

And now she had made him uncomfortable. Barbara’s shoulders slumped. God, she felt like an  _idiot._  Even if she hadn’t been wearing her glasses, she could have seen that the mood was well and truly broken, and it was all her fault.  _Making a mess of things again…_

_That’s what happens when you rush heart first into things, you’d think you’d know that by now—_

Barbara chanced a glance at him and felt her heart give a painful twist as she took in the frown his mouth now had, his brow heavy and tense. God, she hadn’t even taken into consideration just how might have been for him, her doing that. Sure, all the single moms (and some not-single moms) had liked to gossip about the tall, dark and handsome history teacher and the likelihood of getting a little bit  _more_  than just a parent-teacher conference, but that didn’t  _mean_  anything in regards to what  _he_  was comfortable with. Honestly, there might be a strong chance that he had gone through an even longer time of being alone.

And  _God_ , now she had practically  _jumped him_ —

Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and her heart gave a miserable throb.  _Idiot idiot idiot—_

The least she could was apologize, even if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, see any discomfort or regret it might hold. Instead, she turned to look out into the night, the shadows of the evening so very tempting to hide herself in as her eyes burned and her throat got tight. “Walt…I’m sorry. God, I’m  _so_ sorry, I have  _no_  idea what came over me—” 

Because no matter how wonderful it had felt for  _her_ , no matter how amazing it had been to be held and wanted and adored, this  _wasn’t_  just about her and her long-ignored loneliness and shame on her for putting that before his comfort—

Walter turned back to her sharply, his eyes wide.  _“What?_  Barbara,  _no,_  you did nothing—”

Barbara’s laugh was a shaky, hollow thing. “That wasn’t  _nothing_ , Walt. That was – I never would want—”

She stopped, closing her eyes against the burning wetness that threatened to overwhelm them, and tried again. “I’ve tried to be better at not just focusing on what  _I_ want, James always used to say I – I do this all the time, I  _act_ instead of think and everyone else ends up paying the price—”

Walter stepped to her, hair still mussed, eyes burning.  _“Darling—”_

Barbara held up a hand, her humiliation hot on her cheeks. “Walt,  _please_ don’t try to pretend with me. I don’t want that, I don’t want you to—”

Her voice was close to cracking, and she gave herself the small mercy of looking down, away from him. “I don’t want you to regret this.” 

_I don’t want you to regret me. I don’t want to make you walk away like he did._

There was a pause, and then a hand slipped under her chin, tilting it up. 

Barbara found herself looking up into that gorgeous green gaze, the shade clear and comforting as Walter looked at her, a soft and tender and teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I did not think it possible,” he murmured as he dropped his other hand to her waist, palming the curve of it, “but you’re even more exceedingly lovely when you blush. It’s absolutely  _fetching_  with your hair, did you know that?” 

And God help her, she couldn’t help but laugh, even if it was shaky. “Walt, don’t try to distract me—”

“By telling you the truth?” He stepped closer, forcing her to incline her head back further to keep her eyes on his. His smile stayed, but his eyes were serious. “By stating that you’re utterly beguiling? Because you  _are_ , Barbara, and for the life of me I can’t even  _begin_  to contemplate how on earth I could regret  _you_.” 

Barbara looked down again, her blush deepening. “It’s just…I usually find a way to mess things up.” 

“ _You mess things up, Barbara, that’s kinda your thing—”_

She brushed aside that particular pain from the past as best she could to focus on making her tone light, self-deprecating. “I mean, heck, I practically  _attacked_  you there—”

“Then I can only hope I am the victim of such attacks from here on out,” Walter murmured, and oh  _damn_ , he was doing that voice thing again and she  _knew_  he knew it. He nuzzled her hairline, the soft heat of his words stirring the strands there, and there was a smile in his voice. “I may not be equipped to give a diagnosis as you are, Dr. Lake, but I do not believe my response indicted any type of regret.”

His voice then got soft, oddly serious. “I would never regret what exists between us due to  _your_  actions, Barbara. That I  _can_  promise you.” 

“I know, Walt, truly I do.” Barbara leaned back and sighed as the ache in her heart eased, her eyes dropping down once more. “God, you can tell I’m out of practice with this. I really  _don’t_  know how to do these things.” 

But Walter merely gave her the same smile he had before, the clasp of his hand on hers as warm and comforting as it had been on their date, his voice as soft and reassuring. “You’re doing just fine.” 

Maybe it was just the fact that he was so willing to work with her issues. Maybe it was the afterglow of that make-out. Either way, Barbara couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. Instead, she bit her lip whilst arching a teasing brow voice, not even hiding the coy tone of her voice. “ _Just_ fine?” 

A blush immediately came to Walter’s cheeks, but he huffed out a laugh, his hand going to the back of his neck in a gesture that was almost boyish. “Perhaps that  _is_  rather an understatement.” 

Barbara hummed as she came back to him, her own smile going lopsided with bashful happiness, her arms looping around his neck as his circled her waist.  _God, it feels so natural_. “Didn’t mess  _that_  up, then?” 

Apparently he  _hadn’t_  spent all of his smoldering glances, given the look he now gave her. His voice was rough and silky when he spoke, sending shivers over her skin. “The only mess from  _that_ , dear doctor, was my clothing.”

“And mine.” God, she had _totally_  made out in her scrubs.  _Classy._

She looked up and couldn’t keep a snort back, covering her mouth with her hand. “And your hair. Sorry about that.” 

Walter rolled his eyes elegantly as he smoothed a hand over it, not looking too terribly fussed. “I managed to do the same to yours. We can simply call it a case of like for like.” 

_Like for like, echo for echo—_

Barbara pushed that thought away and smiled, her fingers brushing at her low bun and yup,  _definitely_  looser now. “I don’t think it’s as nearly attractive on me as it is on you. You can definitely stand to have your hair messed with more.” 

She meant it as light teasing, but the look he gave her was positively  _wicked_ , his voice low.  _“_ Oh, _could I?”_

Barbara felt a thrill sweep through her.  ** _Oh._**

The image of him in her bed, hair ruffled even more upon her pillow, came to her, and she bit her lip against the hot and heady pulse it brought forth.  _Goddammit, get a grip._

But still Barbara stayed in his arms, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from looking over his shoulder into the house. It was dark inside, but that didn’t mean Jim  _wasn’t_  home. Though she hadn’t seen his Vespa in the driveway.  _Still…_

She licked her lips, biting the lower one. She shouldn’t. She really,  _really_ shouldn’t. Given how prickly Jim still was over her dating his teacher, the risk was too much. 

When she glanced back at Walter and met that green gaze of his, so dark and so full of unspoken desire, her knees went weak. God, but she  _wanted_  to. 

_Think, don’t act._

Barbara sighed and set her shoulders before giving Walter a soft, apologetic smile. “I’d…like to…invite you to stay,” she said, knowing it sounded like an admission. Walter’s hands tightened for a fraction of a second, and she knew her double meaning had come through quite clear. 

She continued, determined to get it all out, to  _not_ be sidetracked by temptation. “But…Jim will be home soon.” She then frowned. “Or he  _should_ be. But…”

She looked up at him, hoping to heaven that she didn’t look  _too_  pleading, her voice didn’t sound  _too_  pathetic. “Maybe…another time? If you wanted?”  

Walter’s answering smile was slow and sinful, sending another thrill through her, and his voice was just shy of smoldering when he spoke. “It shall never be a question of  _want._  As I said before…you are a woman who makes desire  _very_  easy, Barbara.”

Barbara laughed breathlessly, shaking her head in admiration.  _Talk about exploiting._

And seeing that he wanted to make this a  _“case of like for like”—_

_—and you want one more experience of that echo—_

—she would give him just that.

Her hand curled at the lapel of his jacket, and Walter scarcely got the time to blink before Barbara had pulled him back to her, her mouth meeting his and her hand once more in his hair. 

In the resulting hedonistic haze, Barbara wasn’t  _quite_  sure how long the embrace had lasted when she finally did pull away, giving one last languidly sweet tug on his lip. As if a kiss like  _that_  could be measured by mere minutes when there were such other attractive alternatives. Like how deliciously  _dizzy_  she felt, just like she had been after drinking that Pinot Noire he had brought…

That, Barbara thought with smoky-edged satisfaction, had been a  _masterclass_ in  _exploiting._

She looked up at Walter through lowered lashes, drinking in the sight of his dazed expression with an almost decadent sense of delight, savoring how his own heavy-lidded eyes, his head still bent to hers. When she stepped back, he followed, and Barbara flattered herself with the thought that he had done so unthinkingly. 

Tempering her beaming smile into a soft, smolder of a smirk, Barbara managed to open the front door of her house to step backwards into the dim blue-gray shadows while keeping her eyes on his, silently thrilling that she had pulled of such a move without any fumbling. 

She paused at the doorway, her smirk replaced by a slow smile. Her voice was soft and sincere as her eyes met his, heated with heavy meaning. “Then…I guess I’ll be seeing you soon, Mr. Strickler.” 

Walter nodded almost numbly, and Barbara had to fight to keep some honest-to-God girlish giggles back at his expression. Wanda had once said something applicable to this, hadn’t she, what had it been—?

“Yes,” Walter said, and holy hell, his voice was  _still_ dazed. “Yes, we…we shall.  _You_  shall. Soon.” 

 _Fuck-struck,_  that was it. Barbara wasn’t one for needless vulgarity, but when a word was applicable, what else could you do? 

Her exhale was almost a laugh, her giddiness was so great, and her heart gave a throb so sweet it was almost painful. “Goodnight, Walt.” 

Walter nodded, his smile almost one of wonderment as he stepped back. “Goodnight, Barba—”

He suddenly stumbled, payment for not looking as he had walked backwards and meeting the stairs.

With a curse and an inelegant scramble he caught himself, but Barbara couldn’t stop her cry of alarm, reaching for him.  _“Walt, are you—?”_

“Fine, just fine,” he assured her, quickly composing himself and rolling back his shoulders in a determinedly nonchalant manner. 

He then aimed that half-smile of his up at her, the slant of it almost mischievous. “A damn sight more than  _just fine_ , actually.” 

Barbara fought the burble of laughter and instead grinned at him, and God, she felt like an honest-to-God girl again, getting walked home and so utterly enthralled after a kiss.  _Or two or three or twelve._ “Goodnight, Walter.” 

As he stepped back into the night, Barbara could have sworn his eyes glowed at her.  _Probably just a trick of the lamps._  “Goodnight, Barbara…”

She stepped back into the shadows of her house, closing the door as calmly as she could before her knees gave out. She then slid down it, the odd twinge in her ankle easy to ignore what with how her heart was hammering and her face was aching with her smile, the echo of his voice, his smile so plain in it, still in her ears…

God, but were all the single mothers gonna  _hate_ her come the next PTA meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, Barbara, they will (and so will some of the dads). Draal, meanwhile, is wondering how the *hell* he'll tell the Trollhunter about this...


End file.
